Page 28 of Moving Forward

I lean my head back. Two weeks ago, I would have jumped at the chance to say one month. If I could have left sooner, I would’ve eagerly done so. Now I want to tell him I have all the time in the world.

I play idly with the hem of my dress, lifting it up my thigh and pulling it back down to my knee. As we stop at a light, I glance up to see him staring down at my leg, his jaw tight and his face pale. His pupils dilate, following the movement. His hands flex, then clench the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white.

“The light’s green,” I whisper, chills racing up and down my spine in a flurry.

He clears his throat, hoarse. He grips the back of his neck—his tell when he’s nervous, I’ve noticed—and I note that his bandage is fresh, completely unblemished. I don’t think I realized how worried I was about spotting fresh blood.

“You didn’t answer me,” he states, clearly trying to regain his cool.

“Two weeks,” I disclose. “I’m leaving after Ellie’s wedding.”

“Two weeks,” he repeats under his breath. “And then where?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure yet. For now, I’m going to move back in with my parents. They’re going to help me covertly move all of my stuff from a storage unit to their house on Tuesday.”

“You haven’t told Ellie?”

“No,” I admit sheepishly. “Does that make me a horrible person? She’s my best friend, but I need to get away and I don’t know how she’ll take that.”

“Can I be honest?” he asks. I nod and he swallows, paying close attention as he turns down an unmarked dirt road. Once again, he double—no, triple—checks for oncoming traffic. “If you question whether she’ll support you or not, maybe you’re not the horrible person here.”

“Ellie’s my best friend,” I remind him.

“I know, I’m just saying it wouldn’t be fair to make you suffer in a place you don’t want to be. I assume she hopes you’ll live here?”

“That was always the plan, but I can’t,” I tell him. “I can’t.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to stay here,” he says, as though it’s final.

“What about you?” Obviously he isn’t taking his own advice. “Do you want to leave here?”

He shakes his head, putting the truck in park. “I can’t leave Grams, she’s the only family I have left.” He sounds so tired and empty that I can’t help but reach over and rest my hand on his leg. He stares down at it like it’s a foreign object, then cups his hand over it, lacing his fingers through mine. “And I guess sometimes I’m afraid I’ll feel the same way no matter where I am.”

I watch as his thumb slowly runs along my own. It’s amazing how much that little movement can quiet my insides. I want to do the same thing for him. To comfort him, to help him realize he isn’t alone.

“That’s what I’m afraid of too,” I assure him. “I feel like I’m not doing anything but running away from my problems.”

“I don’t see it like that.” He gives my hand a small squeeze and gets out of the truck. After I unbuckle my seatbelt, he opens my door and holds out a hand to help me down. His other hand falls to the small of my back, bringing us closer until we’re only a hair apart. His breath tickles my cheek. My heart pounds, each beat begging me to close that tiny gap.

“I think having the courage to start over is amazing. You’ve gone through a lot, but you’re pushing forward anyway. Shows how strong you are.”

After one final lingering look, he lets me go and retrieves a picnic basket from the truck bed. There’s a trail just ahead. The marker tells us it’s a fourth of a mile from our destination. That sounds fine until I realize it’s uphill.

“I’m not strong,” I tell him, focusing on the trail at my feet. Rocks are arranged like makeshift stairs. I’m not sure if they’re manmade, but if they are, why couldn’t they have put in handrails too?

Cain’s shoulders go rigid, then he turns to face me with a serious expression. It’s so abrupt, I run right into him. He clasps my elbow to steady me and bends down until he’s at my eye level. “If you aren’t strong, then I don’t know who is. You’re here”—he motions vaguely in the direction of the town—“and I can’t imagine that is easy for you. You, Max, are as strong as they come.”

Before I can argue he’s trudging forward again, leaving me to mull over his authoritative words. They repeat in my mind, distracting me. I trip on a few stairs, grabbing onto stray tree branches to steady myself. Cain makes it to the top first and turns to look for me. When he realizes how far back I am, he jogs down the stairs effortlessly. This time he climbs the stairs beside me, letting me take my time.

When we finally reach the top, he brushes his shoulder against mine. “Not much of a hiker, are you?”

“I’m more of a bibliophile, Netflix-addicted type of girl.”

“To be fair, that is quite a climb,” he admits.

I roll my eyes. “You’re just saying that. You’re not even sweating.”

“You’re not either.”

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